Missing Pieces
by LauraMae224
Summary: Emma has a nightmare which leaves her longing for a change that can never happen. Mother/Daughter bonding as well as some pre-SwanQueen stuff.


**A/N: I had this idea quite a while ago, but somehow managed to lose interest. But now that I am back with a vengeance, I picked it up again, even adding some pre-SwanQueen moments for humble shippers like myself. Hope you enjoy!**

It had begun as a whimper, an incessant noise that was intent on driving her crazy. She didn't know where it originated, or how to stop it, just that she must.

Opening her eyes just slightly, Emma peered around the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. The room was bright, brighter than her sleep-deprived eyes could stand. Blinking a few times to try to get used to it, she was able to note the smell – the sterile smell of a hospital.

She had to get out.

The whimpering grew louder, more pained, and Emma's panic bubbled in her chest. She was strapped down, unable to move, despite her frantic efforts.

It wasn't until a piercing cry was let out that the blonde could place the noise.

A baby's cry.

Her baby.

'Henry,' she breathed, vocal chords constricted by fear.

His cry was desperate; disturbed.

She had to get to him; couldn't let him go again.

'Henry,' Emma called out, needing to hold him close. 'Baby, I'm coming. Mommy is coming.'

And that's when she opened her eyes, saw the nurse retreating with her screaming baby. It was too late.

'I'm too late,' Emma whispered, distraught. 'I'm too late. Again.'

…

Emma woke up crying.

It wasn't the first time she had had that dream, nor would it be the last time, but it had been years since she'd had that dream; years since she felt that regret.

Sitting up in bed, wiping the tears that were still falling from her pale cheeks, the young woman pushed back the covers, rising and walking to the bed next to hers where Henry, her son, slept peacefully.

He had no idea how much she wished she didn't miss out on his life, how much she felt she was still missing out on. No matter what she did, she would never get that time back, and never get the opportunity to change her mind.

She gave him his best chance, but at what cost?

Shuffling down the stairs of the loft, Emma heard a whimpering, not dissimilar to that from her dream.

Neal.

Making her way over to her baby brother's crib, she saw his gorgeous, big eyes staring up at her, bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Bending down to scoop him up, she fumbled around the cot for his pacifier, popping it in his mouth when her fingers found purchase on it.

'Shhhh, baby,' she soothed. 'You're okay, darling.'

She made her way to the couch, narrowly avoiding tripping over the leg of the coffee table, and gently sat down, cradling Neal in her arms. She looked down at him, his eyes already starting to roll around in his head, and smiled.

She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, breathing in his new baby scent. It was so soothing, like a warm blanket being wrapped around her.

Tracing patterns across Neal's forehead, Emma found herself transfixed by this gorgeous little boy. How much she wished she had this with Henry, had the opportunity to see him so young and vulnerable.

She would protect Henry to her dying breath, but it took too long for him to discover that.

Slowly, tears made fresh tracks down her cheeks, dripping down onto the blanket covering Neal.

Sniffling, Emma tried to stop them from coming, but eventually sat there, resigned to the fact that they would not be stopped. So she curled up tighter around Neal, cocooning him within her protective grasp.

And when Mary Margaret wakes up two hours later, this is how she finds her babies, out to the world.

Slipping out of bed, she gently pries Neal from Emma's grasp, the loss of weight and contact making the blonde start awake.

'Shhhh, baby,' Snow coos. 'You're okay, darling.'

It occurs to Emma, in her sleep-innduced haze, that this is the exact phrase she had murmured to Neal, only hours before.

'Mom?' Emma questions, wondering why she was now holding Neal.

'I'm just going to put him back down,' she replied, moving to lay him in his crib.

When she came back Emma was sitting up, staring at her hands in her lap.

Snow sat next to her, sidling up next to her daughter. When Emma didn't say anything, Snow moved to take one of the hands she was fiddling with, bringing it to her lips and placing a gentle kiss there.

'I'm sorry,' Emma started. 'I'm really so sorry.'

Confused, Snow looked at her daughter for an explanation.

'I shouldn't have taken him out.'

At this, Snow's heart breaks just slightly. 'Oh, Emma' she sighs. 'You don't have to be sorry.'

Emma looks up at her mother, and, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, realises that she has done nothing wrong.

Whether it is because she is tired, or because she is upset, Emma will never know, but for some reason she moves to rest her head upon Snow's shoulder, revelling in the arm that snakes its way around her shoulders. The pair lean back into the couch, Emma feeling like a little girl cuddled up to her mother for the first time.

Without warning, Emma felt the lump in her throat return, and tears once again trailed down her cheeks. Furiously swiping at them, she began to apologise again, until Snow's hands on hers stopped her.

'Emma,' Snow began. 'You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?'

Emma didn't answer, holding her breath in an attempt to stop the tears.

'Emma?' Snow pushed, looking down at her daughter.

The admission is quiet, as if caught in some deep recess in the blonde's chest.

'I missed so much.'

And at this, Snow's heart breaks, because she knows that exact feeling all too well. She waits, silently urging Emma to continue on.

'When Regina gave us those memories, I felt like the luckiest person alive. I had a beautiful son, and a wonderful life. But, it was just a fantasy, like a good dream – over too soon,' Emma mused quietly. 'And now, now I've seen what it could have been like, and I feel stuck in this limbo. And I don't,' Emma continued, voice breaking, 'I don't know what to do.'

Snow knew that there was nothing that she could say, or do, to take away her daughter's pain, so she did the only thing she could think of – she held her. She held her daughter as tightly as she could, trying desperately to make up for all the times that she wasn't able to soothe her daughter's tears.

And when, only minutes later, Emma left her embrace, walking out the door in search of some fresh air, she did the only thing she could think to do.

She cried.

…

The ringing of the doorbell is the first thing to draw her out of her stupor.

Moments later a dishevelled Regina opens the front door of the mansion, annoyance then worry creasing her brow.

'Miss Swan, what is it? Is everything okay?'

Emma looked at the other woman, slack jawed.

'Miss Swan,' Regina demanded, quickly growing impatient.

Emma looked up at her, panic filling her chest. This was a bad idea.

'I'm…I'm sorry,' she stuttered. 'I'll just…I'm sorry.'

Turning to leave, Emma was surprised when a cool, gentle hand on her arm stopped her.

'Emma,' Regina murmured. 'Are you okay?'

Seeing that amount of compassion come from that woman was not only surprising, but disarming. Emma felt herself slump, leaning into the touch.

'I just…I miss it. Our life in New York, the fake memories, I miss it. So much.'

'How much does it hurt, Emma,' Regina asked, feeling both sorry for the young woman and guilty for all that she had put her through.

'So fucking much,' Emma stated blankly, before bursting into tears.

The heaving sobs gave way to shaking, Earth-shattering cries. The blonde dropped to her knees, her landing softened by the strong hands on her arms.

And that is how Regina found herself curled around Emma Swan in the early hours of the morning.

 **A/N: Let me know what you think! Please R &R.**


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